LAS VEGAS, NV - 

Well, folks, we’re almost a month into 2009 and things are already crazy. Things have happened. A failed president ends his reign of incompetence. A new guy lives in the White House. The Cardinals are going to the Super Bowl. A man in the Philippines took some video of a ghost on his phone. 

And that’s just in the past three weeks. Anyhow, here’s some other natural and unnatural observations:

Give Em’ the Ox

According to the Chinese calendar, 2009 is the year of the Ox. People born under this sign are known to be intelligent and patient. Hardworking and dependable. Like the saying goes: a friend will help you move, but a real friend will help you move a body.  

So, if you’ve killed someone or are planning on killing someone find an Ox. 

In other pseudo-science news, I’m a Capricorn. The goat. My 2009 horoscope looks like this: in the month of January, under the LOVE category, I’ll communicate well. I’ll tear down the walls and let love in. 

Next month, under the HEALTH category, I’ll be humming, bursting at the seams. I’ll be on top of my game and people will gravitate towards me sucking up my life juices, my mojo. 

Looking ahead to the month of September, under the WORK category, it seems my positive personality will help me in dealing with some asshole that I work with. 

Hey, that’s good to know. 

But what about the asshole I have to deal with now? 

Oh, the horoscope says that I have to work cautiously, keep my eyes peeled for any riffraff. 

Okay.

Obama is a Leo. The Lion. He’s devoted, faithful. He’s the man for all seasons. In February, under the WORK category, Barack is to focus at the job at hand, to increase his work profile. In April, under the HEALTH category, Obama will be tired, looking a little weak.

Three months later, under the LOVE category, it is suggested that our new president takes therapeutic baths.

A Very Good Pilot with Enormous Wings

My day always starts off with seeing what’s on the news. MSNBC. I’m addicted to it. Rachel Maddow. Chris Matthews. Olbermann. I dig them all. I have a crush on Maddow. It’s been going on for some time now. I have it bad.

Rachel? Hello? 

So, I flick on the TV and there’s this airplane sitting on some water. The plane in intact. It’s just sitting on the water like if it was a boat. And then I hear this wild story: a pilot named Sully. Glides a falling plane carrying 154 people safely on the Hudson River.

He was called a hero. 

Some people called it a “miracle.” Others said they were damn lucky. Either way, they’re alive to see another day. It could have easily been a tragic way to open the year. 

In other airplane news, when I flew to Europe many years ago I flew on a French airline. The stewardesses were beautiful and smelled like jasmine. I wanted to marry every single one of them and give them multiple babies. One asked me if I wanted orange juice in French and I fell in love with her just because of the way she said orange juice. 

There wasn’t that harsh nails-across-the-chalkboard American tone I was used to.

I landed in France and stepped in a bar and ordered a beer. Then I ordered another one. Then I stepped out into the streets of France not believing that I was on the streets of France. 

Shooting Porn 

Amy Fisher is back on the scene. No, she didn’t shoot anyone in the face. She’s doing porn. There’s a sex tape of her and her husband for purchase. A must have. Get some behind-the-scenes action of the Long Island Lolita.

I’ve heard some sound clips on the Howard Stern show. The only word to describe Amy moaning and talking about her vaginer is foul. Her husband commenting about her vaginer will floor you completely.

“Rub that clit. Come on,” he says is a raspy voice.

When I heard the sound clips not only did it throw me into a fit of winter depression, but I wanted to chop off my arms and run down the street until I dropped.

But something told me to carry on.

And now on pay-per-view you can see Amy and another woman screwing. High art. No guns. No Joey. Not a pecker in sight. All you have to do is dish out the cash. Fisher says she’d like to bone some men on film but her husband doesn’t like the idea.

“There are a lot of great-looking guys out there who I would love to work with,” she said.

Thanks, Amy.

Now, please stop talking about your vaginer.

(I’ve been feeling good lately, but I can easily fall into a category 1 pre-spring depression at the snap of the fingers. Or the snap of a beaver. Either way, Amy, have some fucking heart, will you?)

Goblin Market Part II

Blagojevich. Son of a bitch. Now, listen, I know this man’s problems broke in 2008 but I cannot and will not write a 2009 post without writing about the 2008 shenanigans that brought this cheap bastard into our lives. Well, at least my pathetic life. 

Now, we all know Rod’s problems. He said some weird macho political crap on the phone and got busted and is up against corruption charges. But, whatever. The dude’s a politician. We’ve seen this type of behavior before.

But what gets me is what the hell is up with the poetry readings that this asshole breaks into at his press conferences? Huh?

He must be out of his mind.

Here’s the deal: I love poetry and have read hundreds of poems. So, I get that part. I even gobbled up a thick-ass collection of Victorian poetry that’s about to snap the shelf it sits on. It weighs about as much as the 30-watt amplifier that’s sitting behind me.

Hey, those Victorian poets wrote long poems, man. They wouldn’t shut up. Which is exactly what Blagojevich needs to do: shut up.

I’m gathering that Rod thinks that farting out some Tennyson adds a little meat to his bony worldview. You know, he’s thinking cleverly, showing us that he reads heady things—that the light in his melon is not just the dusty pale glow of limp-dick politics but also has the brilliance to illuminate Cleon.

Just has to be called upon, baby, that’s all. Shit, girl. Ain’t no thang but a chicken wang. Hey, you want poetry? I am poetry. You want poetry? I got your poetry hanging.

The dude is smooth.

And remember now, Blagojevich kicked out some poetry not once but twice!

As of this writing Blagojevich did it once again! But this time he ditched the poetry reading and gave us a weenies-burning-over-a-fire cowboy story of pain and unjust suffering. His arrogance is astounding.

Rod is Job. Job is Rod.

It’s all clear now.  

I think.

Jesus Wants the Cardinals to Win the Super Bowl

The NFL playoffs are over. They’re done. There were some surprises. Giants lost. Colts lost. The biggest disappointments in the playoffs were the Panthers and the Titans. Both teams were favorites to get to the Super Bowl and both teams lost in very ugly ways. It was tragic and embarrassing. Both organizations have to be sick.

So, the Cardinals and the Steelers are in the Super Bowl. People figured that the Steelers could make the big game, but not the Cardinals. Hey, can’t blame them. Historically, the Cardinals have been a horrible franchise. They’ve provided us with decades of shitty football. But they’re in the Super Bowl. They can change history. 

After the Cardinals beat the Eagles in the NFC championship, Kurt Warner (Cardinals quarterback and born-again Christian) gave a shout out to Jesus in a post-game interview.

The week prior when the Ravens beat the Dolphins Ray Lewis got his Jesus on - saying in essence that Jesus preferred the Ravens and therefore granted them the victory.  

Jesus is popular when you’re winning.

The next week when the Ravens lost to the Steelers Lewis didn’t mention anything about Jesus. Maybe he forgot.

I wasn’t aware that Jesus had his favorite football teams. But I can understand why. Some teams are more attractive than others. Some have better colors and come from better cities. Some win and some don’t.

I guess, since Warner called first dibs on Jesus, then his team will no doubt be the Super Bowl champs when the dust settles. Hell, the Steelers shouldn’t even take the field.

But if for some reason the Cardinals don’t win, then that makes Warner’s record in the Super Bowl 1-2.

And that’s a loser’s record.

Jesus or not.

Tags: Amy Fisher, Capricorn, Howard Stern, Jesus, Kurt Warner, Las Vegas, Love, MSNBC, Obama, Ox, Rachel Maddow, Reno J. Romero, Rod Blagojevich, Steelers, Super Bowl, The Nervous Breakdown, Titans

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 25th, 2009 at 9:36 am and is filed under Accidents, Addiction, Alcohol, Assholes, Current Affairs, Games, Gravity, Leisure, Life, Love, Luck, Nature, Poetry, Pop Culture, Psychology, Religion, Sex, Spirituality, Transcendence, Travel, Writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.